Important Story Note: So you know that 'Implied/Referenced Child Abuse' tag on AO3? Yep, we're getting into that, and we're also getting into Bernadetta's anxiety. There's also a description of light blood and injury in this chapter, so bear that in mind, but if you've followed the story so far, you should be good. Just know that now is the point where the story starts getting into Bernadetta's anxiety and her past, so be prepared for that.

Hey everyone!

Sorry about the long delays between chapters. I was in two exchange events and did a pinch hit for one of them; I'm also in the middle of my semester at grad school and have a bunch of heavy projects coming up; and I also had to move out of my apartment, find a new place to live, and sell/get rid of a bunch of furniture because my former housemate had to suddenly leave the country due to visa issues.

In short, it's been A TIME. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you like the new chapter!

"So, Bernie," Hilda said in a bright, chipper voice. "How've you liked having Yuri here?"

Bernadetta jumped, nearly pricking her finger with the pin in her hand. "O-Oh. You're talking to me?"

"Well, yeah." From her place at the Varley estate's massive drawing-room table, Hilda gently set down the handkerchief she was crafting and steepled her fingers together. "I mean, from what Jeanne and Lilian have said, you are the person Yuri's been talking to the most. He seems to be taking an extra special interest in you."

Bernadetta felt her face go, as Jeanne liked to say, 'red as a Noa fruit'.

They were in the Varley estate's drawing room, a place tucked away deep within the house. It was one of the more private rooms of the estate, and it was the place Hilda had rounded up Bernadetta, Lilian, and Jeanne to help out with preparations for the professor's upcoming visit to Varley. Hilda and Lilian were seated at the long table that was now covered in dozens of fabrics and spools of thread, Bernadetta was in her separate corner with all of her sewing supplies, and Jeanne stood in front of a large desk filled from corner to corner with bookkeeping records and other notes related to the everyday goings-on of the estate. Bernadetta had once joked that the drawing room was basically Jeanne's semi-private personal study, and Jeanne hadn't claimed otherwise.

The conversation had been calm and happy, with Hilda and Bernie working on their separate handicrafts while Jeanne and Lilian gossiped—apparently there was a budding romance happening between a florist and an apprentice from the bakery on Cethlann Street! Bernadetta was already imagining how she could weave the tidbits of gossip into a narrative of her own when Hilda had surprised her with the question about Yuri, and suddenly all she could think about was heat running up her neck.

"I-It's been nice," Bernadetta said, stubbornly keeping her eyes on the mannequin in front of her. Being extra careful to not stab herself, she deftly pinned the two pieces of purple fabric together. "I mean, Yuri's here. Why wouldn't it be nice?"

"I can think of a very good reason," Jeanne said under her breath, but loud enough for only Bernadetta to hear.

Bernadetta pursed her lips. She knew exactly why Jeanne still had her reservations about Yuri, but Bernadetta was sure that she didn't have to worry about Yuri trying to assassinate her again. They were friends, after all. That's why Yuri hadn't killed her in the first place!

"Just nice?" Hilda asked, cloying and soft.

"I hope my son hasn't been causing problems for you," Lilian said. She was sitting across from Hilda, happy to just watch the other women work. Now that she had been staying in Varley for a while, she looked more rested, at least to Bernadetta, and she had been happily talking for hours. And yet… Bernie noticed how Lilian's dress hung loosely about her body, as if Lilian had lost a lot of weight very suddenly, and she hadn't once moved from her seat at the drawing-room's table.

"He has a habit of bringing trouble with him wherever he goes," Lilian continued, "even if he doesn't mean it. It's part of the reason he's been able to do so much, but…"

"Oh, you don't need to worry! Yuri's been great!" Bernadetta said immediately. She focused on her mannequin, pinning the swaths of fabric that would form the base of the dress she was creating. "He's actually been really helpful. And he's been sweet, and nice, and… just—just really nice! Right, Jeanne?"

Jeanne sighed forlornly as she rifled through a set of potential menu options for the professor's welcome dinner. "Though his companions have little to no social graces to speak of," she said, "they are surprisingly adept at getting results."

"Didn't you send one of them to the market to get ingredients for the big dinner?" Lilian asked.

"No. I sent her to barter." Jeanne huffed, but there was a smile on her face. "Good thing I did, too. The girl only used up half of the budget I gave her."

"And you don't wonder how she got that big of a discount on those ingredients?" Lilian asked, and when Bernadetta glanced over at her, she saw that Lilian was smiling.

"I do not," Jeanne said without looking up from her papers. "And I don't much care to find out."

Lilian hummed approvingly.

"She probably just really wanted to give you extra change," Bernadetta said, bunching together another set of fabric that would form the base for the dress' underskirt. "This morning you said you didn't want to go over budget for the dinner, so Yuri's bird probably wanted to give you extra money to keep."

"I…" Jeanne said. "I suppose so, my lady."

"And is no one going to tell me who our mysterious visitor is?" Lilian said. Compared to Jeanne, her voice was light and airy, but there was something in her tone that reminded Bernadetta of Yuri—even if Bernadetta could quite pinpoint exactly what it was. "I've been asking Jeanne about it, but she only talks about it like it's a secret between her and the Goddess Herself! Bernie, Hilda. Any chance you two can fill me in?"

"Nope!" Bernadetta said, adding another pin to the mannequin with a flourish of her wrist. "Yuri said he wanted it to be a surprise for you. So my lips are sealed!"

"Mine, too," Hilda said with a giggle. "I like to be on Yuri's good side, thank you very much."

Lilian let out a drawn-out sigh. "Any chance I can bribe the information out of you?"

Bernadetta shook her head. "Nope!"

"What about if I tell stories from when my son was a child?"

"Oh!" Bernadetta's fingers hesitated over the next pin she was about to pick up. "Uh… Ah! No! I can't! I promised!"

"It's alright, Bernie. I'm sure she'll tell you all the stories in due time," Hilda said. Bernadetta looked over to see Hilda lean over and hold out a blank piece of cloth to Yuri's mom. "You sure you don't wanna try embroidering this, Lilian? I'd love to teach you!"

"I'm no good at embroidering. Or sewing. Or decorating, for that matter." Lilian shrugged her shoulders slightly and rested her chin on her hand. "I was born to a pair of farmers of western Faerghus, and I don't even have much experience in that, since I didn't stay to work for them. I only learned how to read and write when my son was a boy, and I'm still not very good at it."

"Well, if you're sure," Hilda said lightly, though she kept an inquisitive eye on LIlian. Like she wanted to ask a question but decided it'd be better to hold off on it—at least until later. "I'd still like your opinion on the decorations I've made so far."

From beneath a mound of multi-colored fabrics, Hilda pulled out half a dozen embroidered handkerchiefs, all of which had a different array of flowers sewn onto them. Some had a combination of bluebells, snowdrops, and blue irises, but others had a completely different patterning. The other handkerchiefs had sewn roses, camellias, and violets woven into patterns across the borders of the fabric. They'd been created using mauve purple string, similar to the color of Bernadetta's hair, alongside a lighter shade of lilac thread, strung together in a winding mix of lavender string. They were all beautiful, of course, and Bernadetta was one handkerchief away from being blown away by the sheer awe she felt at Hilda's innate talent for making so many gorgeous decorations in such a short timeframe.

"I think I like this one the best," Lilian said as she pointed at a handkerchief with swirling violets and belladonnas. "But if you're going for a less… festive occasion, then maybe use one of the ones with the blue roses."

"Got it," Hilda said with a giggle. "I'll save the purple design for later, then. We'll use the blue rose design for the center tablecloth for the big banquet table, and then I can design all the rest of the decorations around that!"

"Aren't you making a lot, Hilda?" Bernadetta asked. "I mean, I'm really, really thankful you're helping out, a-and I know you probably have other stuff you wanna be doing, so you don't have to spend so much time on this! Really! It's my house's business, and I… I'd feel bad if you spent too much of your time on it."

"Bernie, it's fiiiine," Hilda said. "Besides, any designs we don't use now we can just use for something later down the line."

"Ok… But why did you suggest I start sewing this dress?" Bernadetta asked as she pinned another underlayer onto the mannequin.

"Don't you remember all our conversations about dresses at Garreg Mach?" Hilda asked. "Well, they only happened a couple of times, but both times you mentioned that you've always wanted a fairytale princess dress. Now that you have a party to plan for, you may as well make it now!"

"You remembered that?" Bernadetta said, wanting nothing more than to disappear into her stacks of purple fabric. Because of course she's always wanted a fairytale dress, like all the ones the women in her stories wore to balls and engagement parties

Well, Bernie never imagined herself attending those parties, but she did imagine the dress she might wear. A floor-length gown that fit her as perfectly as if a fairy itself had designed it for her. So, over the course of several years, Bernadetta had been designing one, making tweaks to the design as she got older and her skills at needlework improved. And somehow, Hilda had gotten wind of Bernadetta's little plan, and after guiding all of them into the sewing room, Hilda casually suggested that Bernie actually start working on the dress. And when Yuri's mom suggested that that was a great idea, Bernadetta couldn't say no!

"But I already have a dress for the dinner!" Bernadetta said. "And there's no way I'm gonna finish this new dress in time! The ministers want more details on the new budget, the contractors that are overseeing the new hospital say that there's a huge ditch in the road between Vallais and the construction zone, and we have to finish preparing for our visitor! There's so much to do, and I haven't even finished the bodice!"

Hilda shrugged. "We'll just save the dress for the next event."

"What next event?!" Bernadetta cried.

"So, back on topic." Hilda propped her elbows up on the table and rested her head in her hands. "You like having Yuri here?"

Bernadetta ducked her head, hoping that her hair could cover the small smile that bloomed on her face. "Well, yeah…"

Why wouldn't she like having Yuri here? He was kind and sweet, and somehow always there for her when she needed him to be. When she was interrogating the assassin, when she was talking to her ministers, when she made that huge speech to Vallais. He was usually teasing her, like always, but it never felt like it was to the point where he wanted to hurt her. In fact, his teasing usually ended in Bernadetta smiling. In Bernadetta feeling better about herself and the long day she'd had.

At first, Bernadetta wondered if it could've been a dream. A dream where the friend from her childhood had come back to her, but the more the days went on, the more it felt real. Yuri was here. Actually here! He made her laugh, he soothed her worries and anxieties, and he even took his time and resources to help her. He didn't have to, but he did. It felt like… Like he really cared about her.

But that couldn't be right. No one wanted Bernie around. Not unless they had to be around her. Like Jeanne had to be. Jeanne was here because it was her job to be here, and Yuri was here because there was a shady group in her city. He couldn't be here for Bernie! Oh, it was just like her father had always said. Bernie was useless, hopeless, clumsy, annoying, and no one would truly want to be with her—

Lilian's laughter jolted Bernadetta out of her thoughts. "Well, if it's any consideration, my son enjoys being here."

"R-Really?" Bernie asked over the sound of her own heartbeat, and when did she suddenly start feeling like she was being watched and that her heart was one bad thought away from bursting in her throat?

"He loaned you his birds, didn't he?" Lilian asked, and her face suddenly looked brighter. "He wouldn't do that unless he trusted you. And he's been smiling a lot these days."

The image of Yuri flashed in her mind. Of his small, quiet smile. Like the one he gave her the day he arrived in Vallais, or the one he gave her on the balcony during her speech. Those were real ones. Ones that met his eyes and made Bernadetta believe that everything would be alright in the end.

Just thinking about Yuri made Bernadetta feel better. That sudden, omnipresent feeling of being watched faded away, and her heart retreated back into her chest. It was still beating fast though, like she'd been running away from a squad of gremory mages, and Bernie wasn't quite sure why.

"Yeah," Bernadetta said shyly. "I like it when he smiles."

"Lady Bernadetta," Jeanne said coolly. "I would like to remind you that, if you do tire of him being at the estate, I am more than happy to escort him out of it."

"No!" Bernadetta thrust her hands out, palms forward, in a halting gesture. The sudden movement made her accidentally jostle the table beside her, and a bundle of violet fabric fell off of it and onto the floor. Bernadetta let out a small shriek of panic and automatically bent down to scoop up the rumpled swaths of purple cotton.

"O-Oh, I—I mean, I like having him here," Bernadetta babbled as she hurriedly picked up the fabric. "He's been helping out, and he's been really nice to me, and he has his gang helping out, and he makes me laugh, and—and—you don't have to escort him out! He can stay, and I like… I mean, I like…"

Jeanne placed a firm hand on top of Bernadetta's. "I think I understand, Lady Bernadetta," she said. With a sigh, she finished picking up the fallen swaths of fabric, arranging them into a neat pile before placing everything back into Bernadetta's arms. "At the end of the day, I suppose that's what matters most."

Bernadetta blinked. "What? Jeanne you—"

"He has not earned my approval," Jeanne said. "But you enjoy his company. He… makes you happy."

"Of course I do." Feeling another blush coming up to her cheeks, Bernadetta quickly turned away from Jeanne and deposited the fabrics back onto the side table. "And… He does."

"I'm glad," Lilian said. "There are a lot of people who… don't think well of him." Lilian's glanced toward Jeanne, and her eyes turned sad. "Even if they have valid reasons for doing so."

As Jeanne sighed yet again, Bernadetta noticed that Hilda was looking between the three of them with a slight frown on her face and a curious look in her eyes. "Well, it's not like Yuri's activities are inconspicuous," she said. Hilda set down her sewing supplies and pushed them to the side. "With so many things he does, and the kind of things he does, I'd be surprised if he didn't have people angry with him."

"Well, I don't care about all that!" Bernadetta cried.

"Oh, really?" Hilda's frown morphed into a grin. "How come?"

Bernadetta ducked her head shyly. Turning back to her very unfinished dress, Bernadetta picked up a square of fabric and held it up to the mannequin, taking her time to find the right spot to pin it in. "Well, he's Yuri, you know? He's kind, sweet, caring, and just… gorgeous!"

"Mhmm?" Hilda hummed. "Is that why he held your hand during your speech? And why he let you drag him through the courtyard afterward?"

"He did?" Lilian asked.

"He did," Jeanne said in a neutral tone.

"Well… Yeah…" Bernadetta bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. "Yuri… that's kind of what he does, right? Sure, sometimes he seems a bit scary, but I think that's because people don't really know him. I mean, for a while I thought he was out to get me, but he just wanted to talk to me."

Bernadetta pulled out a pin and started attaching the fabric to the mannequin, her movements slow and languid. Almost as if she were moving in a dream. "I mean, I know Yuri's done a lot of stuff, but it's to help people. People who couldn't be helped otherwise. And he really tries his best. He finds problems that need to be fixed, and he figures it out. He's smart like that.

"And… He finds people," Bernadetta said, and she was losing her fight against the smile that tugged her lips. "He finds people that need help. People who are lost. People who… are broken. He finds them and takes care of them. He stays and helps them, even if it's difficult, and even if he doesn't know how to solve everything just yet. When he sees that there's something wrong, he stays and helps fix things."

And that's why he never came back for me, Bernadetta thought suddenly.

She had come to that conclusion several moons ago, shortly after Yuri had told her the real reason he worked for House Varley. Before that, Bernadetta was convinced that the reason Yuri didn't come back was because he was dead. When Bernadetta had discovered that he was alive, he thought that it was because Yuri hated her, and that he was probably planning on killing her anyway. But now… Now Bernadetta knew the real reason why he never came back.

Yuri never figured out the truth, Bernadetta thought. He never learned about the things Father did to me.

And Bernadetta never wanted him to learn.

"You know, Bernie," Hilda said softly. "You have an amazing ability to see the good in everyone."

Bernadetta jumped, nearly pricking her finger with the pin's sharp tip. "I-I do?"

"Of course you do." Hilda tilted her head to the side and gave Bernie a strangely fond look. "Makes me think that you and Yuri would make a cute little couple."

Bernadetta gasped.

It was a short and pained cry that bounced off the drawing room walls, but Bernie couldn't bring herself to care. She didn't care that everyone in the room had heard her, nor that her fingers were shaking violently, with no preamble nor warning. And she barely noticed the small burst of pain that burst in her left palm.

"Bernie!" Hilda and Lilian cried.

"My lady!" Jeanne said.

"No way!" Bernadetta said between shaky breaths. "He doesn't like me like that. A-And even if he did, he'd never want someone like me!"

"Lady Bernadetta", Jeanne said delicately, as if Bernadetta were a frightened horse in the middle of a storm, as she took slow steps toward her. "There is no reason to think ill of yourself."

"But there is! Of course there is!" Bernadetta yelled. Her voice made everyone in the room freeze, and Bernadetta didn't even feel sorry. All she cared about were the hairs on the back of her neck and her senses that had been shot into high alert, like they sometimes did when she was injured on the battlefield, and she suddenly saw the entire drawing room in perfect clarity.

On her right, Hilda and Lilian had risen from their seats and were staring at Bernadetta in shock. Hilda looked like she wanted to jump across the table to see what was wrong. She didn't have her ax with her, but if she wanted, she could pick up a chair and try to pummel Bernie with it. Lilian was looking over Bernadetta with an investigative gaze, though she didn't move far from the chair she was just in. Lilian was closer to Bernadetta than Hilda, but she didn't look physically able enough to beat Bernadetta with a chair, so Bernie didn't focus that much on her.

On Bernadetta's left was Jeanne, who had stepped away from her paperwork and was the only one who didn't look entirely confused at what was happening, and she was the only one who had taken a step toward Bernadetta. She had her palms face up, in a gesture of peace or surrender, and Bernie couldn't see any tell-tale budge in her dress that could hint at the possibility of a knife hidden in Jeanne's matronly dress. And either way, she was between Bernadetta and her dressmaking mannequin, so if need be, Bernadetta could use that mannequin to push Jeanne away while she bolted for the exit.

Her left palm twitched in pain, and Bernie looked down to see that she had stabbed her hand with a sewing pin, which let small rivulets of blood coalesce around the shining metal.

They aren't here to attack me, Bernie forced herself to remember. They aren't here to hurt me.

But the pain in her palm screamed at her. It begged her to listen to the thoughts in her head that swirled and attacked her like a violent storm on the Rhodos Coast. "There's always something wrong with me!" Bernadetta cried. "There's always something wrong with Bernie!"

"Sit straight, Bernadetta!" Her father said as he tightened the restraints around her wrists. "No wonder we've yet to receive another marriage proposal for you. And after everything I've done to prepare you! At this rate, no one on the continent will want you!"

"N-No one…" Bernadetta said, her voice now just barely louder than a panicked whisper. Her father's words echoed in her mind, as did the phantom feeling of leather straps around her wrists, ankles, and mouth. Straps that would pin her to a chair and force her to stay as still and quiet as possible. "No one wants me. No one will ever want me! I'm not good enough! I never have been!"

"Bernie…" Lilian said, carefully but clearly, and without moving closer to Bernadetta. "No one's saying that. You are wanted, Bernadetta. By more people than you know."

"I'm not!" Bernadetta shook her head. "I'm not good enough for anyone. I'm not good enough for my people, I wasn't good enough for my parents, and I'm not good enough for—for!"

For Yuri.

Because Yuri was strong and brave. He never let anything hold him down, and he was never too afraid to go out of his room! Whenever he saw danger, he'd take it down head-on, never backing down. He was nothing like terrified, pathetic, useless Bernie! And Yuri, Yuri was amazing. He always had been! He was kind, gentle, gorgeous, fearless, and brilliant! He was everything that Bernadetta wasn't.

And it's why Bernadetta didn't deserve him. It's why Bernadetta could never think of them being a couple, much less him wanting her! Why would he?

"If you weren't the count, I may as well scoop you up and give you a big ol' kiss."

Yuri was joking when he said that. He must've been! Because why would Yuri ever want to kiss Bernadetta? Even if Bernadetta… Even if…

"He could never want me…" Bernadetta whispered. Bernadetta's left palm twitched in pain, but she still couldn't bring herself to look down at it again. Couldn't bring herself to look at the hand of a weak, useless, unmarriageable failure. "Even if… Even if I…"

Even if I want…

Even if I lo—

The door to the drawing room whooshed open.

Bernie gasped. She jumped and spun around to see who had come in—to see if it was her father coming to check that she was still sitting still and quiet—but it wasn't her father.

It was Yuri. He was standing there, in front of the drawing-room door that was slowly swinging itself closed, with his eyebrows pinched together and his eyes immediately honing in on Bernadetta's stinging palm.

"You're bleeding," Yuri said. He set down a stack of papers he was holding, next to the array of fabrics Hilda had brought in, and started striding toward her.

"Agh!" Bernadetta cried, and she quickly turned around to hide her hand from him. He shouldn't have to see Bernie like this. Weak and helpless and pathetic.

Yuri stopped immediately, just a few paces away from her. His body tensed itself, but his hands didn't move to grab the hilt of the sword that hung at his hip. Nor did they reach for the many knives Bernie knew that Yuri had tucked away into his boots and belt. Yuri, with his perfect face and gorgeous purple eyes, just looked around the room, saw his mother mouth something Bernie couldn't quite make out, and then turned back to Bernadetta. His eyes met hers, and Bernadetta felt as if something warm had wrapped itself around her heart.

"Hilda!" Balthus' voice rang out in the room, and Bernadetta heard the door slam behind him. "Boy, do we have good news for you!"

"Shh!" Hilda hissed. "Not now, Baltie!"

"Bernadetta," Yuri said before Bernie could look away from him. He held her gaze firm, silently telling her to focus on him and only him. "Did anyone hurt you?"

"N-No," Bernadetta said. The warm feeling around her heart spread into her chest, and Bernadetta let it.

Yuri nodded his head. "Are you in danger right now?"

Bernadetta's left palm buzzed in pain. The thoughts in her head kept swirling, telling her that she was in danger and that she shouldn't be looking away from the room for so long, but there was something in Yuri's eyes that told her it was alright. And when Bernadetta had looked around the room earlier, she didn't see anyone out to hurt her. All she had seen were her friends. People she wanted to trust. People she could trust.

"N-No," Bernadetta said, and her voice sounded clearer. "No, I-I'm not."

"So there's no need to worry," Yuri said easily. "No need to overthink."

That warm feeling in Bernadetta's chest, the one that was making her feel safe and secure and protected, grew. It blanketed her nerves, and she let it calm herself until she could speak without stuttering. "Yeah. No… No need to overthink."

Yuri gave her a wry smile, like he usually did when teasing her, but it made his eyes crinkle and soften at the edges. "Exactly. Now, how about you let me see that hand? It'd be a shame if any of the blood got onto that dress you're making, right?"

Bernadetta blinked. Right, her palm was bleeding. It was hurting, but looking at Yuri had made the pain lessen somehow. "Uh… I mean, yeah. You're right."

She held out her injured palm, the sewing pin still stuck in the middle. Yuri quickly made his way over and pulled the pin out. Healing magic flowed from his hand as he whispered a prayer under his lips, and he gently pulled her away from the mannequin and the stacks of purple tulle. Right away, the sharp stinging sensation receded from her hand, and Bernadetta sighed in relief.

Bernadetta vaguely sensed the presence of everyone around them. Jeanne and Lilian seemed to be having a silent conversation, only communicating with slight hand movements and facial expressions. Hilda and Balthus were whispering to each other by the door, but Bernadetta was too far away to hear properly. She felt all four of them glance in her and Yuri's way, but Bernie ignored their looks and instead focused on Yuri. On how warm his magic felt in her hand.

"Thank you," she said. And maybe it was the fact that Yuri had seen her in one of her anxious moments, or maybe it was because he was holding her hand in his while he healed her, but something made heat run up her face, and she ducked her head to hide her blushing cheeks.

Yuri huffed in amusement. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had to heal you up. And no need to thank me. Just doing my job by being here and making sure you don't track blood in your fancy noble drawing room."

Bernadetta raised her head a little. "You… You don't mind? H-Healing me?"

Being here? Bernadetta added in her head. Being with… me?

"Why would I?" Yuri asked.

"Because I'm… dumb and pathetic and a coward. I got scared after hurting myself with a sewing needle! A sewing needle!"

Yuri laughed, but not unkindly. His laughter felt genuine and playful and… fond. "It's gonna take more than that to phase me, Bernadetta," he said as his magic stitched her palm back together. "And you're not dumb or pathetic. If that were true, then there's no way you'd have survived the war. Or the professor's lectures."

The warm feeling in Bernadetta's chest swirled, taking comfort in Yuri's words. "I'm still a coward though…"

"I believe that even less." Yuri whispered another prayer, and the magic in his fingers died down. The spell had healed up the wound in Bernadetta's palm, and Yuri pulled a small rag from his pocket, quickly dabbing it with liquid from a vulnerary before moving to wipe up the remaining blood in her hand. "Everything's alright now, see? So no need to panic anymore."

"Yeah…" Bernadetta said. She watched Yuri expertly clean her palm as if he'd done this a hundred times before, and she found herself smiling. "You're really good at this."

"Cleaning blood? As flattered as I am at the compliment, that kind of comes with the trade of being a gang leader."

Bernadetta laughed. "I mean calming me down. Well, not to say that you're not good at cleaning blood, or that it doesn't come with your job, or—"

"I know what you mean, Bernadetta. Don't worry about that." Yuri shook his head as he wiped up one final splotch of blood, leaving her hand all healed up and perfectly clean. "Unfortunately, I have news that'll probably make you worry all over again, so just try to stay with me while I tell it, yeah?"

Bernadetta balled her hands into fists before she could give in to the sudden urge to reach out and grab Yuri's hand. "W-What news?"

"Yes, please tell us," Jeanne said.

Yuri stiffened before turning to face Jeanne. And if it hadn't been Yuri, the man Bernadetta knew was incredible at analyzing a battlefield and was always aware of everything and everyone, Bernadetta might've thought that Yuri had forgotten that Jeanne was there at all.

"We found the priest's list," Yuri said.

"Well, that's good news, right?" Hilda asked as she looked over at Balthus, who only shrugged in response.

"I feel like there's a catch," Lilian said. Out of all of them, she was the one with the calmest expression, and she kept trading strange, secretive glances with Jeanne.

Yuri stalked over to the table, and Bernadetta followed him. "Balthus, check to make sure no one's listening in," he said.

"On it, Boss." Right away, Balthus opened the door and looked outside. "All clear!"

"Stand guard and make sure no one comes close," Yuri said. "The door's so thin you'll be able to listen in from the outside. If someone's coming—"

"I'll letcha know," Balthus said before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

"W-Why does he need to make sure no one's listening?" Bernadetta asked.

Yuri sighed. From the stack of papers, Yuri pulled out a folded-up piece of parchment and handed it to Bernadetta. Bernie accepted it and began to read, but she didn't need to get past the first line before she recognized someone.

"This is the name of the guard that's always stationed by the kitchens!" Bernadetta said, before pointing at the name directly below it. "And this is the one who's posted at the estate's entrance!" Bernadetta pointed at the name below that one. "And this one is a guard who's usually by the Varley gardens!"

"The assassin was right," Yuri said as Bernadetta kept going down the list of names. "This is a list of every guard that has a posting inside the Varley estate… And every guard who's turned traitor on us."

Bernadetta gulped. "T-Traitor?"

With a gloved finger, Yuri pointed at a small dot that had been scribbled beside one of the guard's names. No, not just a dot. When Bernadetta looked closer, she saw that the symbol was actually a small circle with a dot in the middle.

And that's when Bernadetta saw all the other notes on the list. It was the exact same symbol, a circle with a dot in its center, next to at least a dozen names.

"This is an old-fashioned code," Yuri said. "It isn't used much these days, but I recognize that symbol."

Bernadetta turned to Yuri, the list in her hands shaking between her trembling fingers. She had a feeling that she already knew the answer to her question, but she asked it anyway. "What does it mean?"

Yuri's face hardened. "It means 'spy'. And it means that whoever is behind all this has eyes and ears inside the Varley estate. We have traitors in this house, Bernadetta, and I have a feeling that they've been watching you for a very long time."